


The Path to Healing

by Riverthunder



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Based on a tumblr RP Group, Bonding, Gen, M/M, Magic Charms, Mentions of a Coma, Peter Confides in Stephen, Peter Goes to London, Stephen and Peter Talk, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 23:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16842883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riverthunder/pseuds/Riverthunder
Summary: Based on the IronStrange Family & Avengers Team RP Group.Peter has been avoiding his family ever since waking up from his coma. Believing he is at fault, Stephen had left for the London Sanctum, intending to end his relationship with Tony so Tony will not have to. Peter decides to go after Stephen and explain.





	The Path to Healing

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a series of roleplay blogs I run!! If this story interested you at all, please read the End Notes and consider following them!

Peter looked at his phone, staring at the tumblr Asks that had been pouring into his inbox ever since he woke up from the coma.  
 _Please tell us what’s wrong._  
 _Talk to Tony and Stephen._  
 _You’re hurting them._  
 _They’ll be there for you._  
 _Stephen shouldn’t have left._  
 _You and Tony deserve better._  
He flinched as he read the messages- Stephen was gone, having left for the   
London Sanctum one night as Peter slept, intending to decide how best to break up with Tony.  
 _It is for the best_ , Stephen had written. _Peter does not want me around him; it would be better if I left before Tony is forced to ask me to._  
Peter hadn’t wanted Stephen to leave- but pleading with him to stay would mean telling him what had happened. Why he clung to his silence so desperately to the point he'd avoided Stephen’s gaze and glared into his kind green eyes when he was forced to look into them.  
Now, though- he watched as one after another, Avengers turned on Stephen, berating him for his decision.  
 _How could you?_ Brunnhilde has demanded.  
 _I thought you were better than this!_ Wanda accused.  
 _How dare you blame Peter for your actions,_ T’Challa told him.  
Peter hated seeing the messages- the accusations. He saw one person tell Shuri they suspected Stephen’s departure and Peter’s silence were connected- like they thought Stephen was the one who had hurt Peter so badly, rather than the other way around, just like the apology messages he was receiving. He hated the way the two of them speculated what it could have been.  
And he watched as Tony’s messages came through, defending Stephen even as he intended to leave the pair of them behind. And he watched as Shuri attacked his grieving father.  
He'd had enough. He fired back, fiercer than he ever had before. He didn't care that Shuri was supposed to be one of his best friends- he was livid. She didn't have any right to do this; his father wanted his tattered relationship to be left alone by the others, why was that too much to ask for?  
So they fought- viciously trading blow after blow- until Peter was fed up and blocked her. Let Karen deal with that self-righteous perfect princess; he had other things to worry about besides Shuri.  
And of course others had leaped to her defense- and Peter responded while still full of anger. Letting Anons and siblings alike feel the force of his hatred and anger at the world.  
It burned off slowly, and he was left with nothing but concerned Asks as his hate and anger boiled off into shame and despair.  
He felt like crying. Everything was going wrong. He just wanted everyone to leave him alone, and instead they were giving him more attention than ever. He sobbed, curling up in a ball on his bed.  
Slowly an idea began to form in his mind- a vague idea, but a good one.  
The charm.  
He got off his bed and headed for his dresser, pawing through one of the drawers reserved for, for lack of a better word, junk. Eventually he found it- a small, light blue charm, a sparrow in flight. It glimmered in the darkness of his room, a tiny light source pulsing gently in the bird’s chest.  
Stephen’s kind voice played in his head.  
 _“If ever you have need of me, Peter, put this charm around your neck and call my name. It will bring you to me always, no matter where I am.”_  
He couldn't imagine that Stephen would want to see him, but this needed to stop. It all needed to end. If things continued on this way, people were going to think Stephen had somehow hurt him, and that wasn't the truth, nor was it fair to his father.  
He picked up his phone and typed out a short message. He was going to see Stephen.  
He carefully pulled the necklace over his head and gently touched the gleaming sparrow at his chest, noting how the light in its own chest grew brighter when it rested near his heart.  
He took a deep breath, and murmured into the darkness.  
“Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange.”  
There was a flash of brilliant warm blue light and fire, and suddenly Peter was no longer in his room.  
This room was huge and ornate, and had a massive bed with a sea of pillows was inside it. Various glass cases contained various artifacts- some were thick, leather bound books, others deadly silver daggers, still others expensive rings or glittering scarves.  
Stephen looked up from where he was sitting on the bed, looking shocked and concerned. “Peter? Are you alright?”  
Even after everything he'd done. Even after the way he'd glared at Stephen like he wanted him to die, or he'd let him plan to leave Tony, even after he'd proved what a terrible son he was, Stephen was still caring and kind, ready to help and protect him.  
Peter flinched slightly, then felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “I...I'm sorry…..”  
“Peter,” Stephen said kindly, soothingly, “there's nothing to apologize for. You don't need to worry about me. You should worry about someone else. Your siblings, perhaps.”  
“No.” Peter shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot. “I….no.”  
Stephen waited quietly, concern glimmering in his green eyes.  
“Come sit with me,” Stephen suggested. “You can tell me what's on your mind, if you'd like.”  
Slowly Peter moved to sit beside Stephen, noting how quiet the room was, aside from the rain and the sound of Stephen’s breathing.  
A few minutes passed in silence, but Stephen did not try to break it. He sat quietly, waiting for Peter to speak.  
“I….Can….Can I ask you something?” Peter asked, his voice barely a whisper. “Something…. Something important?”  
“Of course, Peter,” Stephen murmured, his voice ever gentle and comforting. “You can ask me anything.”  
“And you'll tell the truth?”  
“I would never lie to you, Peter.”  
Peter gently dug his left thumbnail into the skin of his right wrist as he considered the words.  
Finally, he spoke.  
“Did…. Did you and Dad….when I was in the coma…. Did you want me to die?”  
Stephen froze, and Peter looked up into his green eyes.  
They were full of pain and worry, and Stephen looked as though he desperately wanted to hug Peter, but was reluctant to cross such a boundary.  
“Of course not, Peter,” Stephen said, and Peter heard the sincerity in his voice. “Peter, Tony and I were so scared that you might not survive, and we wanted more than anything for you to pull through. I'd never seen your father more relieved than when you opened your eyes again. And you're my son. I love you more than I love anything else in this world. Why in the world would you think either of us would want for you to die?”  
Stephen looked as though he were in physical pain. Like the idea of Peter’s death was enough to make him feel like someone was burning his heart where it sat in his chest.  
Peter looked away.  
“Because…. Because he told me to die,” Peter whispered.  
“Who?” Stephen asked. His tone was shocked, but Peter could detect anger laced into the words.   
The teenager shifted uncomfortably.  
“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”  
Stephen was silent for a moment, and Peter listened to his breathing as the sorcerer thought.  
“Are….” Stephen paused, but forced himself to continue. “Are….are you saying... _Tony_ told you to die?”  
Peter’s head shot up, horror in his eyes. “No!”  
Stephen let out a breath, and Peter saw the relief on his face.  
The former surgeon took a few moments to compose himself before asking, in a gentle voice, “Then who?”  
Peter looked away again.  
“You won't believe me.”  
“Peter,” Stephen said kindly, “I promise I'll take this seriously, no matter who it was. Whatever it is that's bothering you, I'm here to help.”  
His need to comfort the boy seemed to overpower his desire to give him space, and he gently ran his long, once-nimble fingers through Peter’s thick hair.  
“I can't fix what I don't know is broken, Peter,” Stephen said quietly. “I wish I could, but I can't.”  
Peter sat in silence for a moment.  
“Steve.”  
Stephen’s fingers froze in the middle of combing Peter’s hair again.  
“What?” The sorcerer whispered, his voice low and forcibly controlled.  
“It…. It was Steve.”  
Peter whimpered a bit and looked up at Stephen, his heart racing with fear.  
“What did he say to you?” Stephen asked, and Peter could hear a growl in his voice. Fighting to keep calm. Fighting not to worry or frighten Peter.  
“He….” Peter gulped, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He...he told me that...that I should let go...and that...that you and Dad would be….fine.”  
Saying the words aloud didn't really capture how they'd torn at his heart or clawed at his soul as he'd pushed against the coma to wake up. In fact, saying them aloud, he felt like an idiot for being so hurt.  
But Stephen seemed to understand. He gently pulled Peter into a hug, letting the boy rest his head against his chest.  
Peter began to sob. He wasn’t sure why- maybe it was because he didn’t deserve forgiveness and Stephen was forgiving him anyway, maybe it was because Stephen wasn’t downplaying how much pain he was in, maybe it was because he’d finally admitted to someone what had happened after so long of letting it roil inside of him, unchecked and dangerous.  
He’d been sitting with Steve’s words for so long, taking them to heart and believing them- that everyone would be fine with his death, and no one needed him or wanted him around.  
“Shh,” Stephen murmured gently. “Shh. You’re safe here, Peter. You’re safe. I promise I’m going to protect you.”  
After what felt like hours, but in reality was only just a few minutes, Peter had hiccupped himself into silence. Suddenly he felt exhausted, and Stephen wasn’t fooled by his attempts to yawn inconspicuously.  
“Bed,” the sorcerer murmured firmly, using a spell to lift Peter up from the edge of the bed and nestle him in the middle after the covers had been pulled back. Stephen tucked him in, and smiled kindly at Peter once more before turning to leave.  
“Papa?”  
The sorcerer stopped and looked back, concern glimmering in his green irises. “Yes, Peter?”  
“Papa, I...could you… Can you come back now?”  
Stephen smiled a bit sadly.   
“Of course.” He walked back to Peter and gently squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry I left in the first place. Please forgive me.”  
Peter had to fight not to yawn- you shouldn’t _yawn_ when someone was apologizing to you- but he didn’t quite manage to stop it.  
“M’ fault,” he mumbled, feeling sleep starting to win. “Made you.”  
“That’s not true,” Stephen replied firmly, but he stood up before Peter could protest. “Get some sleep, my spiderling. I’ll go let Tony know you’re safe.”  
Peter tried to sit up. “And-”  
“And that we’ll both come home once you’ve slept, of course,” Stephen said kindly. “Sleep now.”  
He turned and left the huge bedroom, carefully shutting the door behind him.  
He’d forced the anger down for Peter, but now he could only feel seething fury, mixed with betrayal that clawed at his heart.  
He strode off down the corridor, not stopping until he reached a room filled with computers, and logged onto one to private message Tony.  
***  
 ** _best-magic-uncle-strange:_**  
 _Tony, I have Peter with me in the London Sanctum. He’s safe. He’s exhausted so I’m making him sleep. We’ll both come home once he’s woken up and rested._  
 _He told me what’s been bothering him but I don’t think you should hear it online. I promise I’ll explain when I see you._  
 _I’m sorry I left and I’m sorry for hurting you. Please forgive me, my heart._  
***  
Tony’s response was so quick Stephen knew he’d been on his phone, scrolling through messages and lamenting all the things he’d done wrong in a vain attempt to make everything right.  
***  
 ** _best-science-dad-tony:_**  
 _Thanks for looking after him, Stephen. I was a little worried but since he said he was going to see you I figured he’d find a way to make sure he got to you._  
 _I’m glad he told someone what’s wrong...though based on your reaction I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that it’s nothing good._  
 _I’m not mad at you for doing what you thought was best, Stephen. I just want you to come home. Please come home. I’m miserable without you._  
***  
 ** _best-magic-uncle-strange:_**  
 _Your wish is my command, Anthony. Try to get some rest. I’ll be home soon._  
***  
Tony didn’t respond, and Stephen guess he’d done as he’d asked and gone to try and get some sleep.  
The sorcerer logged off the computer and leaned back in the chair, scarred fingertips pressed together and resting against his lips as he considered what Peter had said.  
It must have been when he and Tony had left- the only time they had left- to get more clothes and to have showers. There was no other real explanation- Steve hadn’t shown up any other time.  
The sorcerer buried his face into his scarred and and began to cry.  
It really was his fault. _He_ was the one that insisted they go home to the Compound and get more clothes and shower. Tony hadn’t wanted to leave; he’d insisted it was for the best. And now Peter was miserable, having been carrying the burden of believing that everyone had been secretly hoping he would lose his life after Quill’s attack.  
He wanted to scream and cry and tear everyone who’d ever laid a hand on his son to pieces, because it wasn’t fair. _It wasn’t fucking fair_.  
Slowly he forced himself back into composure. He needed to be strong. That was what he was good for: being strong for Peter and strong for Tony. He couldn’t go to pieces. Not yet.  
Slowly the sorcerer got to his feet and headed for the kitchen. Perhaps he could make Peter something to eat once he woke up.  
He had a feeling tomorrow was going to be a long day.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to follow me on tumblr!  
>  Riverthunder’s Tumblr Blog
> 
> Or to follow my Marvel RP Blogs!  
>  IronStrange Family & Avengers Team FAQ & Masterlist


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